A Uniform with My Name on It
When I attempt to recover I climb to higher ground so to escape the all-encompassing dangers surrounding me. Someone called out my name and I ignore the beckoning. The showers will return again shortly so I must find cover.
“You can’t leave!” the voice cries out. “Who will lead us?”
“Not me” I whisper. “Not me…”
I rip off my uniform so not to confuse any others as to what I will or will not do in our given situation. Stripped down to an undershirt and boxers I feel liberated but there the uniform sits bunched at my feet.
The voice with a body to accompany it catches up with me.
“You took on the role of leader” motioning to the wadded bundle at my feet; “You accepted that responsibility the moment you put on that uniform.”
Silence
“Well!” The voice demanded irritatingly.
“Well what? Exactly what do you expect me to do? Yes, I am the man wearing the uniform but the situation has changed a bit hasn’t it? Look around you! Those who put me in charge are gone! GONE! There below you! What do you see! I absolutely refuse to lead anyone out of this.”
I attempt to climb higher but the voice’s hand finds my leg. I turn around. The voice’s face is as fresh as spring gloriously glowing in a sun filtered by shades of midnight blue, pink and orange. Within the realm of love comes the most beautiful creations. This woman, stretched out using my leg as a support of sorts and straining to keep her balance is one such creation. Conflicting thoughts compete for attention. Yank the leg and be free of another soul competing to survive or relent and gently lower myself to where she is delicately balanced. A gust of wind propels grit toward my face. My cowering is badly timed and the small projections make their best attempt of becoming one with my facial skin.
I can’t see as well as I would like now but I look down to behold a hurricane of blonde hair, shining blue eyes, grit, plant debris, tears, mucous, passion, pain, confusion and bunched up uniform parts. I lower myself down carefully.
I look at her. The record cannot die. There has to be more music. In my mind, she is the essence of the future. Her eyes speak of the only pure emotion belonging to man. Her hands gather up my uniform and softly, slowly, she inches ever closer to me with her offering which I accept. The showers have arrived and the only choice we have is to embrace burying our heads into one another. This is how our story begins.
Story inspired by the inside of a Radiohead maxi-single. There is a mock questionnaire and one of the options was Uniforms. With your name on. This story shall be continued.